


Mine, Yours, Ours

by spelling_error



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Play, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Alternate 2012 Timeline, BDSM, Bondage, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Daddy Tony Stark, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Humiliation kink, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Overstimulation, Painplay, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Polyamory Negotiations, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shibari, Slice of Life, Sub Steve Rogers, current Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, daddy Steve Rogers, endgame Steve/Tony/Bucky, little Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelling_error/pseuds/spelling_error
Summary: With Loki's tip after New York, it still takes Steve and Tony almost two years to hunt down Bucky Barnes. When the two new lovers bring Bucky in from the cold they expect the worst. But Bucky defies all expectation and in time Steve and Tony are faced with a version of Bucky Barnes that is so startlingly similar to the man before the war that it should be problematic. It should be scary for Tony who cannot imagine life without Steve. It should be uncanny for Steve who can still remember the taste of Bucky's kisses.It's not problematic. Bucky just thinks that Steve and Tony like to be over-complicated.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 57
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As far as the tags go (and more will be added, this fic is HUGE) assume that all the sexual content and kink takes place between Steve and Tony only, and that all the age-play and tooth rotting fluff involves Bucky.

**One Month at Avengers Tower**

**Bucky**

Bucky knew he was… a wreck.

He’d known that since Steve had ambushed the bunker housing the sleeping Winter Soldier and Bucky had failed to defend the base when he saw the attackers face. Known it since he turned and ran as fast and as far as he could.

It just hadn’t seemed like much of a problem until Steve found him again a year later.

Until Steve brought him back to New York, to America. To the tower he lived in with his new team, and his new boyfriend.

Once he was around functioning human adults, Bucky realized that he… was not.

Bucky was the furthest thing from a functioning adult as you could be with most cognitive abilities, the physiology of a twenty-seven-year-old male, and a chronological age nearing a hundred.

He hadn’t realized that he couldn’t speak most of the time.

He hadn’t realized that he couldn’t eat solid food or that he was supposed to.

He hadn’t realized that he didn’t bathe as often as he was supposed to.

He hadn’t realized that he didn’t sleep as often or as long as he needed to.

Steve and Tony had to teach him these things.

He liked Steve and Tony, but he didn’t feel the same way towards the rest of Steve’s team. They were far too weary of him at first… and then came the pity.

Clint had been aggressive towards Bucky at first, and then he was aggressive in his plight to become Bucky’s _friend_. That lasted until Clint realised that Bucky _couldn’t_ speak, even when he wanted to sometimes. Then the archer got frustrated, because he liked to talk, but not the same way Tony liked to talk (when Bucky didn’t have to do more then nod or huff to keep up his end of the conversation).

“So, who’s your girl?” Clint had asked, motioning to the pile of guns Bucky was in the process of cleaning.

Bucky pointed.

“Nice,” Clint agreed, “She got a name?”

Bucky nodded.

“What is it?” he asked, slowly.

Bucky tried to make the sound. Tried to unlock his jaw. Tried and tried and all he could do was push air through his teeth and the growing ball of anxiety, “Rrrr”.

Bucky gave up, pulled his knees to his chest and shrugged, because that’s all he could do. Nod, shake, shrug.

“You…” Clint had looked at him, concerned, “ _can’t_ talk,” he said, realization dawning.

Bucky curled tighter around himself.

“Aw, man,” Clint hissed, “I’m sorry, I thought you were just the tall, dark and brooding type,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, “Shit,” he cursed.

Clint left after that, stopped trying to befriend Bucky, recognizing a fruitless cause.

Natalia had been afraid but played it off as silent solidarity. That lasted until she witnessed her former trainer on his knees vomiting for what felt like hours because _solid food_ , because Sam had told him he couldn’t live off plant-based-protein powder, which was all Hydra had told him he could consume, and that he was to obtain it often if he was ever unable to return to his handler.

Hydra had been right about that.

His throat felt raw and there was blood, a lot of blood, by the time his stomach stopped convulsing.

After that Natalia had looked at him with pity and disgust.

When Tony had come by, and Natalia had told him that Bucky needed to go to medical, Tony had instead shrugged her off, gone to the freezer and retrieved a frozen rainbow _icicle thing_.

“Open up, baby doll,” Tony had said, voice teasing. Tony’s voice was often teasing. He had many names for Bucky.

Bucky let his jaw fall open, too used to following orders to disobey when he was already feeling horrible. Tony pressed the icicle to his tongue.

“Suck on that for a little while,” he winked, “don’t let him eat more than half, the sugar will make him sick again,” Tony added to Natalia and walked away.

Bucky had sat and dutifully sucked on the frozen, sugary juice until it was exactly half finished. His throat felt far less raw, and the black spots had cleared from his vision.

He handed it to Natalia, she cringed and tossed it in the sink.

Bucky went to find Steve, leaving her grumbling to herself.

Bruce had been kind, if a little awkward. More awkward than he was with the others, which was saying something. He was charged with ensuring Bucky was actually able to survive off of his plant drinks and Tony’s frozen treats and had to take a blood sample.

Steve had helped Bucky shrug out of his many layers of Kevlar and leather.

Bruce’s face scrunched up but he didn’t say anything until he was wiping a spot on the crease of Bucky’s arm with alcohol and a cotton ball, which turned into four cotton balls before the crease of his arm was considered sterile enough.

“Bucky, you need to shower more often, this is…” he sighed, “have you showered in the month since you got here?” he asked.

A direct question, a direct answer.

“No,” Bucky said.

Bruce shook his head, disappointed. Bruce had not told him he needed to shower before coming to his lab. Tony did not request him to be clean before entering _his_ lab.

“Why not?” Bruce prompted.

It was not a direct question, and Bucky didn’t have an answer anyway.

Bruce directed his question to Steve.

“I told him he could, but I guess I should be more clear,” Steve said to Bruce, then turned to Bucky, “Do you know how to turn the shower on?” he asked, “It’s kind of confusing,” he admitted with a smile.

“No, I don’t” Bucky was able to answer.

Steve smiled, gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll show you when we’re done here, okay?”.

“Thanks,” Bucky replied.

He looked forward to being clean.

Showing Bucky, turned into bathing Bucky, because he’d forgotten about taking off his gear, and that soap was a necessity. Hydra usually stripped him and hosed him down and sometimes left him in his clothes, if they were bloody too.

Bucky sat in murky grey water, pink from the heat while Steve gently poured water over his head, trying to get his hair clean and detangled.

Steve frowned, “I’m going to get Tony, okay?” he asked.

Bucky nodded.

Steve told the ceiling man to get Tony and a moment later the eccentric genius was in the doorway.

“Woah,” he shouted, covering his eyes, “that’s a lot more naked super-soldier than I’m used to seeing,” he said, “by a solid sixty-four percent,” he added, peaking at Steve who was shirtless.

Steve snorted at his boyfriend, “Sixty-four?” he asked.

“Upper to lower body ratio, babe,” Tony replied.

Steve smiled, shaking his head, “Of course you’ve got a number for that,” he said fondly, “Do you have anything I can use in Bucky’s hair?” he asked seriously.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, hang on,” he said, then began rifling through the cupboard. The bathroom was big enough to have a cupboard. It was crazy. The bathtub was just a small swimming pool, really.

Tony pulled out a few bottles and a handful of little glass vials. He handed the bottles to Steve, gave him the instructions on what to do, then uncapped the vials.

“Sniff,” he instructed Bucky, carefully keeping his eyes on the ceiling, Bucky appreciated that. “Tell me which is the best,” he said, then went through all five vials until Bucky said “three,” and Tony nodded and added it to the water. Then he did something that made the water move gently around and Bucky was surrounded by the smell of cloves.

“Thanks,” Bucky said.

“No problem, snowflake,” Tony grinned.

Steve went back to his attack on Bucky’s hair, this time combing something through it that had the tangles falling apart in his hands.

“So, when do _I_ get a sensual, aroma therapeutic bath, Steve?” Tony teased.

Steve’s cheeks turned pink and his mouth quirked up in a barely suppressed smile.

“I demand candles,” Tony added, “I’m a classy bitch, you know,” he continued to tease.

Steve’s cheeks turned further pink, and Bucky couldn’t help but reach up and poke the rosy skin.

Steve blinked in surprise before he started laughing, “I’m not blushing, _you’re_ blushing,” he whispered.

Bucky’s mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile, he flicked some water at Steve, who laughed harder.

So, Bruce’s weariness and pity wasn’t quite so bad, since he did get to smile at the end of it.

With Sam, he’d started out trying for the same easy and teasing relationship that Bucky had formed with Tony and that he had always had with Steve. He even tried a few different nicknames with varying degrees of no success.

“Hey man, you look dead on your feet,” he’d said one day, noticing the bags under Bucky’s eyes. Bucky replied with a grunt.

The next time Sam had run into Bucky, Bucky _was_ sleeping.

Under the kitchen table, with a gun in each hand and both trained on the elevator, but still. That was where Bucky always slept.

No one had noticed, and no one should have noticed except that Sam had tripped and fallen out of the elevator, looking up from his place on the floor to see Bucky crack a single eye and train his Ruger on the man’s face.

“Jesus!” Sam had shouted, scrambling backward, “What the hell are you doing?!” he asked.

“Sleeping,” Bucky had replied.

“Oh man,” Sam had groaned, “Ohhh, man” he said.

Bucky then had to listen to Sam outline what was wrong with his behaviour. Sleeping on the floor, sitting up, with weapons in hand. Sleeping during the day. Not entering a ‘rem’ sleep. The list went on, and so did the pitying look on Sam’s face.

After that, all of Sam’s attempted nicknames were met with a hard, “No,” and all of Tony’s more ridiculous ones were met with an accepting silence.

That’s how he was given the nickname, ‘Princess’ and so he blamed Sam when that became Tony’s new favourite.

The genius had been going through as many obscure names as he could, testing Bucky’s threshold, and Bucky only denied anything more than four syllables, so alas, the Winter Soldier was now ‘Princess’ and he was mostly fine with that.

Tony said the name stuck because Bucky _was_ a princess. He said it with a smile on his face every time Bucky voiced an opinion.

“No, I don’t like the purple popsicles,” Bucky said.

“Alrightie, Princess,” Tony said, and stuck the purple one in his own mouth, then the pink one in Bucky’s.

Steve caught on, too.

“No, I don’t like the blue comforter, it’s scratchy,” Bucky said.

“Fine, you can have the beige one from our room, _Princess_ ,” Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky smiled, “Damn right,” he said.

Bucky knew Steve’s team didn’t like him very much, but Steve and Tony did, and that’s all he needed right now. He’d consider making more friends once he figured out how to eat toast.


	2. Chapter 2

**Four Months at Avengers Tower**

**Steve**

Bucky was making amazing progress, Steve thought.

The rest of the team were a little put off by Bucky though.

He didn’t exactly blame them.

Bucky’s behaviour was… unusual, for sure.

Steve and Tony were the only ones who had seen the full extent of what Hydra had done to his best friend, so he knew what to expect from Bucky even before he’d tracked down the bunker he’d been kept in, and even more so after he spent another year looking for him on the run before he brought him home. Sure, the whole team has been working tirelessly weeding out Hydra after Loki had dropped the surprisingly helpful tip after the Battle of New York, but Steve kept Bucky’s secret close to the chest. It was between him and Tony to find Bucky, and they did. It just meant that he continued to keep Bucky’s secrets close to the chest.

Thus, it was Steve’s fault they weren’t all ready for Bucky.

He still wanted to kill Sam the day he tried to tell Bucky he needed to eat solid food and had given him a grilled cheese sandwich, though.

He had to keep telling himself, _hell,_ Tony had to keep telling him, that Sam hadn’t known. He hadn’t known that Bucky had received all his nutrition through an IV or feeding tube for sixty years.

After the initial anger had worn off, and Bucky was feeling better (and developed a liking for popsicles, if and only if, they were presented by Tony,) Steve started to blame himself, for the team’s reaction.

He should have told them more about Bucky and what to expect. If he had, he would have saved everyone this headache.

The headache that was Bucky _hating_ everyone who wasn’t Steve or Tony.

And he was being such a _princess_ about it, too.

Steve was surprised, how much of his old friend was still in there. He’d expected Bucky to be nothing like his old self. There were a lot of differences, sure, but the sass, the princess attitude, oh man, was it ever Bucky from before the war.

Bucky was less self sufficient, that was for sure. In the past, Bucky would bristle at the prospect of someone opening the plastic wrapper of a popsicle for him before sticking it in his mouth, but now Bucky bristled every time Tony tried to hand him the popsicle directly.

Steve didn’t mind that Bucky was like that, though. It made helping him easier in a way because he didn’t get embarrassed when Steve had to do things for him, not like other people expected him too, at least. Bucky did get frustrated sometimes, but he didn’t deny when he needed help and when he was struggling with things, and that… that made a world of difference.

Steve had sat down with Sam and tried to explain Bucky’s situation without getting into the details too much, hoping Sam would be able to help.

“Aw man,” Sam had said, “I wish I could help more, but uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t think he likes me enough anymore,” he chuckled, self-deprecating.

Sam had felt really bad about what happened with the solid food ordeal, and then admitted to overstepping a second time when he found Bucky sleeping under the table.

“Honestly, he’s doing pretty well considering what you told me,” Sam had said, “he might just need to work on getting his bearings a bit more before we try subjecting him to the team,” Sam advised, “He’s doing really well with Tony, probably because it was just the two of you with him for the first few days, best not to swamp him anymore,” Sam had said.

Steve nodded, “He’s just so...” he sighed, “so vulnerable right now, and he’s trusting us to take care of him and I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up,” he admitted.

Sam frowned, gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, “I know,” he said, “you’re doing fine,” he assured, “Just keep working on getting him talking, then we can get him into therapy and they’ll help you,” Sam told him.

Steve did his best.

Clint actually helped in that department, having been the first besides Tony and Steve to realize Bucky was _trying t_ o talk, and just couldn’t sometimes.

He’d come to Bucky about a week afterwards and introduced him to sign language. Bucky was slow, and didn’t _love_ communicating that way, but mostly because he wasn’t sure about _Clint_.

“Hand talking is fine,” Bucky had said the other day, “Clint… not fine,” he said with a grimace.

Tony, of course, immediately taught Jarvis how to read ASL.

“Just sign at a camera, Elsa,” Tony had said, “then Jarvis’ll tell us what you’re saying,” Steve’s boyfriend smiled.

Tony was doing so much for Bucky, just like his boyfriend always did. Steve was unbelievably lucky to have Tony with him right now. Was glad that Bucky had taken to his new boyfriend so quickly too.

Steve still loved Bucky, maybe even was still a little _in love_ with him, but that didn’t change how he felt about Tony—not even a little. In fact, Tony caring for Bucky made him love his genius even more.

Steve had no desire to start a relationship with Bucky, both because he was head over heels for Tony, but also, because Bucky was so, so vulnerable right now and the thought of _that_ was just… all kinds of wrong.

Steve knew he’d be in trouble once Bucky was stable, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Steve admired Bucky so much, right now. He was trying _so hard_ to move past Hydra, to get himself together. He kept pushing himself, even when he got frustrated, even when there were things that were just too much. He didn’t give up.

He was forming opinions left and right now, when a month ago Steve had to wait twenty minutes before Bucky could be sure if he wanted orange juice or apple juice.

Now, asking if he’d like orange or apple juice was met with a bratty scoff, and a “You know what I like,” which sounded flirty, sounded a lot like _Tony’s_ kind of flirty, but when Bucky did it just made Steve laugh.

“Tony is good for you,” Bucky said once, licking his popsicle after Tony had left for his SI office a few floors down.

Bucky had witnessed Tony’s truly startling love of public displays of ‘affection’ (read: raunchiness) and had giggled quietly at Steve’s face turning all kinds of red.

To be fair, Tony was being exceptionally… suggestive.

When Bucky was gently suckling a popsicle it was _cute_ but when Tony was deepthroating his own popsicle, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit and then kissing the life out of Steve, is was decidedly _not cute_ and instead very, very _hot_.

Even more so when he’d forced the popsicle past Steve’s lips, kissed Steve’s cheek and called, “See you tonight, don’t forget to chill the wine,” on his way to the elevator.

“Yeah,” Steve had agreed, breathless and now with a dripping popsicle in his hand.

He didn’t even _like_ popsicles.

Bucky made grabby hands at the melting desert and Steve couldn’t see why not, so he handed it over with a “Sure, why not”.

Bucky smiled, did a little wiggle and started slurping the melting treat.

“See, when you do it it’s cute,” Steve muttered, “Why is everything suggestive when it’s Tony,” he complained.

“I dunno,” Bucky replied, “I don’t even think I can get it up an’more,” he said, more interested in his popsicle then in the revelation, “If I could, I might have more sympathy, he’s nice on the eyes,” he added with a smirk, “He’s good for you”.

Bypassing the complement to his boyfriend, Steve was taken aback. Both by the revelation and by Bucky’s apparent peace with it.

“You… you’re okay with that?” he asked, skeptic.

“With not gettin’ it up?” he asked and at Steve’s nod, agreed, “Yeah, ain’t like I got anywhere to stick it,” he said, crudely.

“Bucky, don’t be crass,” he reprimanded, and Bucky apologized with a grin and a bowed head. Steve rolled his eyes, “you were never a fan of sticking it anywhere, regardless,” Steve said with an eyeroll.

Which was true, not that Bucky needed Steve to tell him what his past sexual preferences were. But it was worth mentioning, in case Bucky was confused about that. When they were together Bucky always preferred to ‘receive’, and occasionally liked when Steve used his mouth, but that didn’t matter. Bucky was a different man now.

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m more focused on learning how to digest solid food,” he said, “I can figure out sex later,” he said.

“Alright, that’s reasonable,” Steve said in understanding.

Bucky nodded with a small smile, and then having finished his popsicle and was now sucking on the wooden stick.

“Buck, spit that out,” Steve reminded, “you’ll get a splinter,” and he stuck out his hand for Bucky to deposit the stick. Which he did, with a grumble.

Steve hadn’t worried about Bucky being jealous of Steve’s new relationship, or any hard feelings about Steve having moved on despite their history. He’s read too much of what Bucky had gone through to have any idea of Bucky being interested in picking up where they left off of course, but more than that too. Their relationship growing up was always different. Jealousy wasn’t something they could afford to have, not when the punishment for their loyalty to one another could be punishable by institutionalization or worse. They loved each other, but they never held any illusion that they would be the only one for the other. Peggy was an example of that even in the war.

When Steve woke up in 2011, finding that their kind of love was no longer a crime, he gave himself time to mourn Bucky all over again. Mourn what could have been. Still, Steve had long ago come to terms with the reality that if they had made it through the war, their relationship would have to end soon there after, when Steve married Peggy, and Bucky found his own wife.

He didn’t know what to think about Bucky’s revelation around his current progress in sexuality, though. He was almost afraid to check the files they had found for information on what might have been done to _alter_ things. He tried to not think about it. Bucky would talk about it if he needed to. He repeated it like a mantra until he was able to go back to reading his book, which is what he had been doing prior to Tony’s departure, and a while later, having lost himself in the text, Steve remembered to look up and check on Bucky.

When the other man saw Steve shift, he immediately hid his flesh hand behind his back. It looked like he had it near his mouth, and Steve wondered if he had another popsicle stick. He was pretty sure he’d taken both.

“Buck, what were you doing?” Steve asked, gently and non-accusatory.

It didn’t matter, Bucky was instantly defensive.

“Nothin’” he said, shoulders rising with anxiety.

“It’s okay,” Steve tried to soothe, “you’re not in trouble,” he assured, that was an important statement to make with him, “just give me the popsicle stick okay?” he said.

Bucky shook his head, bringing his hand forward, “Don’t got one, sir,” he rushed, then cringed at his own use of formality, “I—” he started, “I uh, nothin’, I wasn’t doin’ anythin’” he mumbled.

Steve’s heart clenched painfully. Bucky was slipping, fear raising and breathing speeding up in panic.

Steve gave him a gentle but pointed look, kept his tone even, “Bucky, you had something in your mouth,” Steve said.

He wasn’t sure what was making Bucky start to panic, colour pinking his cheeks with shame as he slowly moved away from Steve, shaking his head. He didn’t look like he was having a flashback, his eyes, though refusing to meet Steve’s and skittering around the room, were clear, if a little watery.

“Shh,” Steve tried to soothe again, “You’re not in trouble, I promise,” he said, and put his book down slowly, telegraphing the movement.

That was apparently the wrong thing to do, Bucky flinched and screwed up his face, expecting contact.

Steve’s heart dropped. He stilled completely, “Bucky,” Steve whispered, “it’s okay, it’s just me, just Steve” he assured, “I’m not going to hurt you, princess” he tried.

Bucky took a breath, shallow, but deeper than the sharp inhales he had been taking.

Steve didn’t move again, just continued to whisper assurance until Bucky’s face relaxed and he was no longer braced for pain.

“Can you tell me what you were doing?” he asked, knowing Bucky would probably struggle to talk for a few hours.

Predictably, he shook his head no.

“Can I ask Jarvis what you were doing?” he asked next.

Bucky paused, and eventually nodded.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said.

“Jarvis? What did Bucky have in his mouth?” He asked.

“His thumb, Captain,” the AI responded.

Bucky hunched in on himself a little.

“Oh,” Steve said a little shocked, “Well that’s okay, as long as you’re not biting,” he said, “can I see your hand?” he asked.

Bucky offered it without hesitating.

His thumb was a little pruney and damp, but there were no teeth marks in his skin.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Steve said, giving Bucky a gentle smile, “you’re allowed to suck on your thumb,” he said, “no biting though, and not on the metal one, you could hurt your teeth,” he added.

Bucky seemed to relax completely, and without missing a beat, he had his flesh thumb in his mouth again.

“Adorable,” Steve mumbled, rolling his eyes, because if Tony did that, it meant something entirely different.

The most amazing thing was that an hour later, Bucky’s eyes were closed and he was dozing lightly on the couch. No guns, not even sitting up fully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I know I promised to focus on Bad At What We Do, but I haven't been able to write much lately, and this one is practically done, so it's just a little something to keep the content coming I guess. 
> 
> Heads up, Bucky's asexuality has nothing to do with what Hydra did - Bucky will explore his sexuality later and in his own POV
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter sounds familiar, you may have read my other fic called "Thank You" which is just pure Stuckony smut.

**Six Months at Avengers Tower**

**Tony**

Tony could admit, when he told Steve to bring his POW ex-boyfriend in from the cold, the genius had no idea what to expect.

Suffice to say, he did not expect the princess known as Bucky Barnes.

Tony was half convinced Steve was going to leave him for Bucky, had even contemplated biting the bullet and breaking things off _for_ Steve, just to save himself the heartache when his boyfriend inevitably cheated or left him.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not because he was optimistic, no. He was just far too in love with Steve to say the words.

Then Bucky had come to the tower.

Tony wishes he could say he felt relief when he realized that Steve wasn’t going to leave him for Bucky, but that would be a lie. Any relief he felt was bittersweet, tainted by the reality that was Bucky Barnes’s suffering.

Tony had read the files, _all_ the files actually, including December 16th, 1991. He started digging right away just six months after the Battle of New York when Steve had come to him with another possible tip that Loki had left them. Then he’d read them all a second time when the rescue mission to the Siberian Hydra bunker didn’t go exactly to plan and Bucky was in the wind. So, Tony knew better than anyone what to expect in terms of Bucky’s trauma and PTSD. What they got was both so much worse, and significantly better then either he or Steve could have imagined.

Bucky was able to survive on his own, staying off both Hydra’s and Tony’s radar and self-sustaining for a year before they were able to track him down living somewhere in Romania. Finding him had taken four separate algorithms running simultaneously by Jarvis, as well as the intimate knowledge of Hydra’s ‘care’ of the Winter Soldier.

That meant that Bucky wasn’t sure how to survive _not_ on his own.

He had no idea how to behave around other people. Had no idea what the Avengers wanted from him. He seemed to know how to take care of himself, was able to form preferences and opinions, but he didn’t know how to balance that with the added stress of people treating him like a friend.

In the face of his confusion, to Tony, it seemed like Bucky had two settings: Completely self-sufficient and ready to fight anyone who tried to tell him what to do, or, completely dependent and ready to fight anyone who tried _not_ to tell him what to do.

It was no surprise that Steve was the person Bucky liked to listen to. That was expected. What wasn’t expected, was Bucky listening to Tony.

Steve was familiar. He was an obvious friend when Bucky knew nothing about what was happening. Bringing him to the tower, Bucky had been nearly delirious with fear and confusion, the only thing he understood was that Steve was there and in time, that he wasn’t being hurt.

Somehow, in that time, Tony had done s _omething_ that gained Bucky’s trust, or respect, or whatever it was that made him look at Tony and Steve like they hung the god damn stars.

When Tony realized that Bucky had begun to treat him with the same amount of trust as Steve, he panicked.

His first instinct had been, _I don’t want this, here, have it back_ , but how the hell was he supposed to throw that kind of trust back into the face of a man who was weary of Sam Wilson of all people? It was impossible, it was a level of cruel Tony firmly believed he could never be capable of. Still, he tried little things, just to see if maybe Bucky would prefer a more independent-but-still-trusting kind of friendship in place of the completely-dependent-I-trust-you-with-my-life level that they were at.

Bucky did not like that middle ground. At all.

In a way, Tony… understood Bucky and his all or nothing behaviour.

It reminded Tony of the way he had been after Afghanistan. Everything felt so tentative, fake, he felt like he was constantly walking a tightrope, a strong breeze away from loosing his god damn mind. The only saving grace was Pepper and Iron Man. He’d clung to Pepper because she was familiar and he needed her in a way he barely understood himself at the time. He needed her structure, her unwavering confidence. Again, when he was dying—he’d taken comfort in Pepper even as he was trying to push her away. Comforted by her strength, her authority, her competence in the face of _nothing making sense_.

It was reasonable that Bucky was clinging to similar things with Steve… the familiarity, structure, and authority, and in a way, it made sense that Bucky was clinging to some things with Tony, too –Tony had confidence and competence in abundance enough to combat Bucky’s confusion.

It didn’t make it any less weird, but then again, what about his life wasn’t weird these days?

And Tony _liked_ Bucky.

He liked Bucky on good days when he was all smirking smiles and full sentences, he liked Bucky on angry days when he was sassy and argumentative with the team (never Tony or Steve), he liked Bucky on frustrated days when he was cursing out his therapist for an hour, he liked Bucky on calm days when he was talking about how great his therapist was for an hour, liked Bucky on sad days when he was shy and non-verbal. He liked Bucky.

He understood why Steve had fallen for him, understood why Steve was willing to go to the ends of the earth for him.

With each day, Bucky became more and more of a _person_.

It was just Tony’s luck that that person was someone that he really, really liked.

It probably said more about Tony than about Bucky, but damn, was Tony ever a sucker for super-soldiers with a sob story.

Especially Bucky.

Tony loved Steve, was _in_ love with Steve and probably always would be. There was no one he would rather be with, and that was fact.

Another fact was that Bucky Barnes sucked his thumb and sat with his legs crossed in over sized sweaters and liked being called _princess_.

He had very different feelings for each of the super-soldiers he lived with, but in the end, it was the same result. He’d give either of them _anything._ Had given Steve his heart, gave Steve his body on a nightly bases, would probably give Bucky Steve if the man ever asked, but… that’s not what Bucky was asking for now. That’s not what Bucky was requesting that Tony should be able to say ‘no’ to, and so of course, Tony said yes.

He was in bed, had an orange holographic screen up but dim enough not to wake Steve who was snoring softly beside him. He was working on troubleshooting his Advanced Alien Science Scanner (AASS) program when he heard a soft whimper.

At first, he’d thought it was Steve, and instinctively reached over to run a soothing hand down his boyfriends back, which was often enough to chase away the beginnings of a nightmare.

It wasn’t Steve who had made the noise, he noticed a second later, when Jarvis popped up a message on his screen.

It was Bucky, standing outside their door and looking like he might knock, but also looked like he was about to fall over, and Jarvis had played the sound through his speaker so Tony would notice.

Bucky had been steadily improving in a lot of areas. Personal hygiene and vocabulary being the two largest. He had been going to therapy for a few months now, but sleep… that wasn’t something he had mastered yet.

Lately, he seemed to be getting worse for sleeping.

He still took up post under the kitchen table with his guns trained on the elevator, but from what Jarvis could tell, he hadn’t been resting the way he used to.

Instead, sometimes Steve said Bucky fell asleep on the couch in the afternoons, sucking on his fingers and looking _adorable_ , but it was still less rest than he had been getting. Tony couldn’t figure out what was going on, but Bucky hadn’t even attempted sleep in days.

With a quick glance over at Steve, who could sleep through just about anything when he wasn’t on mission, Tony told Jarvis to open the door. He couldn’t exactly get up, not with Steve’s arm tossed over his hips and in his underwear.

Bucky stumbled back when the door slid open, then he looked imploringly up at Tony.

“Hey, everything okay, Buckaroo?” Tony called softly, closing his display.

Bucky shook his head, made a horrible choked off whimper and rasped, “Stevie?” in that small, scared voice of his.

“Shit,” Tony cursed softly. One of those days. Also happening more often, and probably connected to the lack of sleep. These were the days Tony hated to love, if that made any sense.

On days like this, Bucky was soft and gentle, a little scared, a little nervous, a little bratty, and very, very orally fixated, and Steve was always ‘Stevie’.

Tony was pretty sure Bucky’s oral fixation was directly linked to sleep, and the rest just tagged along.

“Yeah, Steve’s here, princess,” Tony assured, “You want me to wake him up?” He asked, honestly surprised the blonde hadn’t woken already at the sound of Bucky’s voice. Steve was used to Tony talking to Jarvis at night, but he had something of a sixth sense when it came to Bucky in distress.

Bucky just whimpered again, shuffling from side to side.

“You can come in, Bucky,” Tony said, then shifted, shaking Steve gently, “Babe, hey wake up,” he whispered, aiming for gentle.

Predictably, Steve just grumbled and batted Tony away.

“Sorry about him,” Tony grinned at Bucky, who shuffled a little closer.

Skipping gentle, Tony went for effective, “Babe, wake up, it’s Bucky,” he said.

Even more predictably, Steve’s eyes flew open, “Wha?” he said, sitting up quickly and looking around.

“Buck?” Steve said, sounding still half asleep but far more alert than he usually was upon waking up in his own bed.

Bucky whimpered again, non-verbal and frustrated. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, shuffled some more and whined.

He looked ready to fall over.

“C’mere,” Steve said, holding out a hand. Bucky took it in his metal hand, still with his flesh hand at his mouth.

When Steve, still sitting on the edge of their bed, pulled Bucky closer, the man came willingly. Standing in the v of Steve’s spread legs, it was as if his strings had been cut, his legs folding under his own weight, Bucky collapsed.

“Stevie,” Bucky gasped, shaky.

Then he was crying, wrapping both arms around Steve’s middle and burying his face in Steve’s stomach.

“I—I’m so _tired,_ ” he cried, miserable.

Bucky wasn’t actually asking. That was the thing. Tony was sure that the fact Bucky didn’t come right out and ask was the only reason Tony said yes.

Steve looked over his shoulder at Tony, concerned, confused, seeking guidance Tony wasn’t sure he was giving when he said,

“Why don’t you try sleeping in here, with Steve?” to the crying man on their bedroom floor.

He didn’t wait to see Steve’s face. Didn’t really want Steve to see his, so he slid out of the bed and went to the dresser to find pajama pants. He’d go down to the workshop, maybe get some stuff for SI done after working on AASS—give Pepper something to use against the board. With a glance over at Bucky, Tony grabbed a second pair and tossed them on the bed. It wouldn’t be the first time Bucky borrowed Tony’s clothes. The soldier was surprisingly slight compared to Steve, now without the steroid cocktail Hydra had been giving to boost their bastard serum in his system, he was closer to Tony’s weight category, if a little (lot) taller.

By the time Tony had stepped into his own sleep pants and given himself a pep talk about how it was perfectly okay to leave your boyfriend and his ex alone in your bed, Bucky was shuffling into the pants Tony had thrown.

Tony took the opportunity to lean across the bed and give Steve a quick kiss and a fake smile, then was moving to the door.

Bucky whimpered, loudly. More of a high-pitched whine, really. Something hurt and confused like when you step on your dog’s tail by mistake.

Tony was turning back around before he knew what he was doing.

Bucky had a pinched expression, the kind he wore when he wanted to talk but couldn’t get the words out.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve called, gentle, “just lay down, okay?” he said, pointedly not looking at Tony.

Bucky didn’t have the good grace to ignore Tony, though, and instead he shuffled from side to side and looked imploringly at Tony again.

Tony was pretty good at interpreting non-verbal Bucky, he had a lot of practise with different pitched noises and context with the bots, but he… he had no idea what Bucky was trying to say now.

“Tony,” Steve said, “you need sleep, too” he reminded, gently, “I know you’re going to the lab…” he trailed off.

Tony couldn’t help the quirk of a smile. His boyfriend knew him well. Still, “you can’t prove anything,” Tony replied.

“It’s a big bed, Tony,” his boyfriend pointed out, biting his lip.

Bucky’s face lit up, and he nodded.

That… that was what Bucky wanted? For Tony to stay too?

As if in response to Tony’s mental musings, Bucky scrambled into the bed and laid down on the far side, a good four feet between him and Steve.

Tony hesitated, then made the mistake of looking at Steve, who gave those big, bright puppy-dog eyes and Tony was sighing, crawling over Steve to slip into bed too.

It was a big bed, even with the three of them, there was a bit of space between them all and Tony tried to relax.

That lasted a good five minutes.

“Nope,” he said. It was still like laying next to _two_ furnaces. He couldn’t even stick his leg out of the covers which was an important part of sleeping next to someone who generated heat like Steve. Tony even had _pants_ on. “As sexy as being the filling of a super-soldier sandwich could be, I’m way too toppy and it’s way too hot in here,” he said, “someone switch with me,” he demanded.

Steve was already asleep.

Tony turned to Bucky, who shrugged and crawled over Tony to slot himself down in the six inches of space between Steve and Tony.

Steve grunted, but didn’t move, and Tony shuffled over to give Bucky a little more room.

Sticking his leg out of the covers, he grumbled, “Oh thank god,” and finally let himself relax.

Bucky wiggled around, got comfortable on his stomach with his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes, it was a far cry from the defensive position Bucky usually adopted when he needed rest.

Tony laid there a while, listening to two sets of breathing, Steve’s slower than Bucky’s but both even and deep.

Eventually, Tony’s mind wandered back to his troubleshooting, and he pulled up the screen to finish up.

He was interrupted a few minutes later by Bucky’s hand swatting at the image.

Tony caught it from messing up the settings and found it wet. He reluctantly put the screen away at Bucky’s glare, and then wiped his hand off on Bucky’s shirt. “We should get you a pacifier,” he muttered, peeved at being denied his late night work. Tony’s pretty sure he had one, though he couldn’t remember if it doubled as a gag or not. It had been a while since he played ‘daddy’ for anyone.

“tha’s for babies,” Bucky mumbled around his thumb, that had returned to his mouth the second Tony released his grip.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, sliding down to get comfortable on the pillows, “you’re a big baby,” he teased.

Bucky yawned, “Only when ‘m sleepy,” he said, closing his eyes. So Tony was right about the oral fixation and sleep deprivation.

“You’re always tired,” Tony pointed out.

Bucky just hummed, not bothering to deny it as he settled back in for sleep.

Tony’s brain was wide awake, though.

He listened as Bucky’s breathing slowed to match more closely with Steve, signifying that Bucky was actually asleep this time.

He thought about Bucky. About the version of Bucky that was soft and gentle, a little non-verbal, who sucked his thumb and demanded pink or rainbow popsicles and not any other kind. The version of Bucky that cried, and sought physical comfort in a way he didn’t allow at any other time. The version of Bucky that Steve said was new, but not exactly out of left field either. The version of Bucky that lit up at the name ‘princess’ or blushed at ‘baby doll’ and who looked at Tony and Steve like they hung the moon and stars.

Tony thought about Bucky and a pacifier and… Tony hated himself when he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are caught up to present day now so no more time skips, just the three alternating POVs.
> 
> If you read last chapter and saw that it said (November 2015) that is incorrect! I meant to take it out but I didn't notice. That was just me playing around with the timeline in anticipation for part 2 and doesn't much matter to this fic at all. 
> 
> To clarify, it's late August or September in the fic now. The winter holidays will be among our boys in a few more chapters!

**Bucky**

Bucky lied.

He was not only a big baby when he was tired. That was just when he couldn’t help but let his guard down.

He couldn’t help it, really. Tony and Steve just made him feel so _cared for_ and he was helpless to stop himself from letting this messed up part of himself out.

It had a lot to do with trusting Steve, of course. He had always trusted Steve, and would always trust him, and now he trusted Tony through proxy of Steve.

He was slow to admit it to his therapist, but Bucky’s trust in Tony had blossomed not because Steve _told_ Bucky, or even purposefully _shown_ him that Tony was safe, but rather it was Bucky eavesdropping on the couple while Bucky was still half convinced that he was a prisoner.

He had still trusted Steve with his entire being, but he was afraid that Steve was a prisoner too, at that point.

He’d been given free reign of their apartment, and it was the first time that Steve had left his side since they arrived two weeks prior. The reason? Sex with Stark.

Bucky had… thought Steve was being tortured by the things coming out of his mouth through their bedroom door.

Steve had been groaning a persistent mantra of _please_ , _Tony_ , and _Sir_ punctuated by whimpering moans that sounded _pained_. Bucky was up and outside the door before he consciously knew what he was doing.

He was about to break the door down, when Steve’s voice cracked on another low moan and, “please, Tony, let me come in you, please, please, I can’t—” came the broken off sob.

That made Bucky stop, because he _recognised_ that desperate tone, those hitched breaths. Steve was having _sex_. Loud, noisy, possibly a little kinky, s _ex with Stark._

He thought maybe he should have been jealous, but he wasn’t. Bucky was a mess of thoughts and feelings, sex falling incredibly low on the list of his priorities and then Steve was making even more noises, ones that sounded a little less pained than before and how could Bucky be jealous when someone was making Steve feel that good? When Steve had given himself over to someone _to let_ them make him feel that good?

Somehow, _that_ was what made Bucky trust Tony.

Steve wasn’t such a trusting man himself, Bucky knew. Never liked to appear vulnerable, and yet he must be with Tony when they were together behind closed doors.

A part of him felt he shouldn’t trust so easily, not after Hydra… but the reality was, Hydra never broke his trust. That wasn’t an issue he had, though he had plenty of others. He could and still did, trust Hydra to be exactly the way they showed him that they were. He trusted Hydra and his handler’s to be cruel, sure, but it was still trust, both earned and conditioned.

He knew a part of the trust the Soldier had had in his Handler’s was brainwashing and orders, he knew that he had been forced to believe that a Handler’s word was law… but when it came to Steve and Tony… Well, if their word was law, Bucky was more than happy to treat that law like a religion.

It made it difficult to hide the ugly parts of himself, though. Hard to hide when you want to give yourself over to someone(s) so completely that you feel you cannot breathe without them.

His therapist said it was good that Bucky could still trust, and that he was selective in who he offered that trust to (Not Natasha or Sam) and that it was okay to want to be seen by people, after spending so long living as a ghost.

His therapist said it was less good that he wanted to form a dependence on people, but that recognizing he had a choice in whether he wanted to be dependent or independent was a good thing. As long as Bucky was choosing this, and not feeling like he needed to be, or worse, forgetting that he didn’t need to be, it was okay to want Tony to feed him his popsicles, and for Steve to mix his protein drinks for him.

He’d been pretty good about that. There was nothing that Steve and Tony did for him that he couldn’t do on his own… until… until it came time for _sleep_.

The dependence started… a long time ago. A few months, right before he’d started therapy, when Steve had caught him with his thumb in his mouth and told him it was _okay_. It was a comfort Bucky always tried to supress, but found when he did it brought some strange sort of calm over him. That day, with Steve in arms reach and that calmness he got from indulging that _thing_ , he’d fallen asleep.

It was such a good sleep that Bucky couldn’t seem to find rest the same way he used to, and he found he could only really sleep now if he knew Steve was there with him and he could put his thumb in his mouth. It meant going from about eighty minutes a day of fitful twenty-minute increments of sleep under the table, to forty minutes of un-interrupted and deep, nearly REM sleep on the couch.

At first it had been great. He had felt rested and energized in a way he hadn’t for as long as he could remember. Two months later, it wasn’t really sufficient anymore.

That’s how he found himself outside Steve and Tony’s room last night, stuck deep in that part of himself he wanted nothing more than to hide, and just needing his… his friends. His friends who cared for him.

He wasn’t even really sure what he’d been expecting when he’d shuffled through the apartment and ended up standing there.

He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t have the words to ask. Wouldn’t have asked even if he had been able to.

He didn’t need to ask, in the end.

He woke up -actually woke, not just became aware- _hours_ later. A full nine and a half hours later and with Steve’s hand in his hair, gently petting him, twirling his figure through the soft strands.

Tony was still asleep, and Bucky had curled around him, had his forehead pressed between Tony’s shoulder blades, but when Bucky moved away and rolled onto his back to mumble something to Steve, Tony jerked awake.

Steve didn’t seem shocked by this, “Mornin’” he greeted them both.

“Hey,” Tony replied, completely alert, which Bucky found odd, since Tony lived off caffeine and he assumed Tony was one of those people who didn’t function without it, “I’m wearing pants, so that’s a good sign,” he said, “but I can’t help notice there’s an extra super-soldier in my bed,” he said with a grin at Bucky.

He couldn’t help but blush, “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he said, “You look like you slept, I feel like a slept, and Steve didn’t leave me at ass o’clock in the morning to go running,” he gave a pointed look at Steve, who put down his book and smiled.

“I could have been out and back for all you two would know,” Steve said.

Tony gave him a knowing look, “Sure, babe,” he said sarcastic.

Tony made everything feel so easy and normal, even weird things. Like Bucky. Bucky was weird, but Tony made him feel easy and normal. Steve made him feel human and safe. He really liked being near them.

It felt unbearably nice.

Bucky wanted to _live_ in their bed.

He didn’t get to, unfortunately. He had a therapist appointment that day, and then he was going for smoothies with Clint, mostly to give Tony and Steve some time alone.

It was pretty clear they needed some time without Bucky around, if the sheer number of time’s he’d walked in on them getting heated in public spaces was any indication. They’d stopped having sex while Bucky was home once they realized their room was not soundproof for super-soldier hearing, so it was no wonder they were both so… handsy.

When Bucky told Dr. McKinley about how he’d ended up going to Steve and falling asleep in their bed, the doctor was optimistic as always.

“It’s great that you’re recognizing the potential for developing a serious dependence and that you’re opening up about it before it goes to far,” she had praised.

It made Bucky feel awkward and good at the same time.

Then they’d talked about how they could use Jarvis to help Bucky sleep on his own, but the whole time Bucky just thought about how Steve’s hands felt in his hair, how warm he’d felt in the middle of them, how Tony had put away his work and slept for once (something Steve was always complaining about).

He’d still been stuck in his head when he met up with Clint at their favourite smoothie bar.

“Rough session?” the archer asked sympathetically.

After his initial weariness and dislike of Clint and his constant talking, Bucky had started warming up to the guy. Especially after Clint had introduced him to ASL, which made communicating outside of the safety of the penthouse worlds easier.

Sam and Natasha were still his least favourites. Natasha tried to… tried to sympathize in this strange silent way that he didn’t like it. She reminded him of Hydra, of pain and hurt and obedience and violence and death trapped behind the thin curtain of his flesh.

It didn’t help that she… _flirted_. With Steve, with Tony, with _Bucky_. Bucky didn’t like flirting unless it was Tony doing it. He wasn’t sure why.

With Sam… it was different. He knew, for the most part, that Sam was good. He was safe. He was a friend. All the Avengers were friends and no one had hurt him since he arrived, but Sam had come the closest with the ‘incident’. He knew, objectively that Sam hadn’t meant to hurt him, had been trying to help by giving him food… It was just hard to get that fact to the forefront of his thoughts when he saw the man.

But Clint was good.

“Not productive,” he replied. They always took up the same seat at the back of the place and people-watched, which was what they did now. “I can’t figure out how to _sleep_ ,” he sighed.

“You look like you managed alright,” Clint pointed out. In fact, he had pointed it out the moment he saw Bucky.

He tried to tell Clint in words, but choked on them and reverted to signing.

‘sleep in Tony, Steve room’ he got out as quickly as he could.

Clint’s eyebrows rose, “Tony and Steve… let you sleep in their room? Where did they… wait,” he said with realization.

Bucky’s face heated, ‘Shut up’ he signed.

“Like… on the floor?” he asked.

“Yeah, Clint, like a dog,” Bucky said out loud to get his sarcasm across.

“So… in their bed… with both of them?” Clint said slowly.

“Don’t make me regret telling you this,” Bucky glared.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in defense, “Just that… Tony… wow,” he said, nonsensically.

Bucky glared.

“Hey man, that’s… not completely weird,” he admitted.

Bucky raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Bucky was well aware it was weird. That was the problem.

“I mean, Nat’s done it, too, slept in my bed a few times when she can’t let her guard down and whatever,” Clint disclosed, “Just figured Tony would maybe… you know, since you and Steve used to…” he left the sentence open ended.

Bucky shrugged, “It’s in the past,” he said.

“You sure about that?” Clint said.

Bucky looked quizzically at Clint, “Yes?” he replied. It was obviously over between Steve and Bucky, and he more than approved of Tony. “Tony and Steve are great together,” Bucky added.

Clint nodded, “Yeah, but I mean…” he trailed off with a shrug.

Bucky didn’t know what Clint was talking about. It was clear Bucky wasn’t interested in Steve, wasn’t it? Or had Bucky been overstepping his boundaries? He didn’t… he didn’t want Steve to himself. He liked Steve _with_ Tony. He didn’t want to come between them at all. That would be _horrible_.

‘What?’ Bucky signed with an angry glare.

“Weren’t you and Steve… great together?” Clint asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Not like him and Tony,” he answered honestly.

“No?” Clint asked skeptic, “Didn’t seeing Steve break seventy years of brainwashing or something?”.

Bucky glared again and didn’t comment further. He finished his smoothie and left Clint standing there instead.

Bucky didn’t want to be with Steve. Bucky wanted Steve to be with Tony. Why didn’t Clint see how great they were together? Why was Clint… Was Steve… no, no Steve was loyal to Tony. If he wasn’t, Bucky would kick his ass until he was.

He was in a sour mood when he got home, slinking through the hallways to avoid running into anyone else. He took to the vents, avoided even Jarvis in his route to get back to the penthouse. He wanted to lock himself in his room and throw his pillow at the wall for a while. That usually made him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do we feel about this? 
> 
> This is almost entirely slice of life, but there is a part two that involves the multiverse and quite a bit of angst. If enough people enjoy these characters maybe I'll continue with it too.
> 
> Also, the 20 chapters is an estimation. I eye-balled it because I didn't want to count. it's currently sitting near 60K words it that helps.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely smut. The whole thing. Just sub Steve and dom Tony going at it okay? Bucky's not even in this chapter. He went out.

**Steve**

Steve and Tony decided to maybe  _ not _ to talk about Bucky for once.

The last eight months had been very Bucky centric, for both of them. Steve felt responsible for his best friend, and so did Tony, in his own way.

After last night, Bucky coming into their room, sleeping through the night for the first time since he’s arrived, and sleeping in their bed with them… They needed some time not talking about Bucky.

Steve needed… Well, Steve needed  _ things _ from Tony.

For someone who was not to be a soldier, never had been, and never will be, Tony was very good at giving orders like one. Less surprising, was that Tony was very good at getting what he wanted, telling people what to do, and otherwise being a domineering asshole –all things that Steve really, really loved in bed and  _ no where else _ .

Or, in this case… the penthouse living room.

“So good like this, baby,” Tony whispered darkly, “looks like you missed me, huh Steve?” he asked, condescending, not that Steve was paying much attention to his tone.

Steve just nodded, kissed him to try and shut him up for a minute, because if he didn’t this was going to start and end on the couch and he’s pretty sure Bucky doesn’t need to walk in on naked, post-coital cuddles in the living room.

He shouldn’t have let them start out here anyways, but then Tony had come back from a meeting for SI in that dark charcoal suit that made his features stand out and the dark of his eyes that much more alluring and Steve had rationalized that Bucky wasn’t going to be home for at least another hour and a half so…

So now he was practically humping Tony’s leg (again) because he was so, so horny, and Tony looked mouth watering sitting there, waiting for Steve to get back from the gym, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Bedroom,” Steve mumbled, “Bedroom, now,” he said again, pulling on Tony’s tie, trying to tug him up and off the couch. He only ended up sitting in the other man’s lap instead of draped over him, and there was  _ less friction _ this way so he groaned, “No, no bedroom, please,” he tried as Tony’s mouth moved on to his neck, breath hot against his skin as his gripped Steve’s ass.

“Are you begging already?” Tony asked, an obvious smirk in his voice, “I’ve barely touched you,” he crooned.

“Shut up,” Steve whined, “you know how good you look in this suit, now come on, want you to fuck me,” he said with urgency.

“Language,” Tony teased, grinding his hips up into Steve’s ass, letting him feel the hardness there.

“It’s been weeks,” Steve complained, “No more teasing,” he moaned.

Tony hummed, took Steve’s earlobe in his teeth and tugged gently, making Steve shiver, “A little more teasing,” he said, “But you might just come in the process,” he grinned into Steve’s skin.

Steve was nodding, because that was good. That was great. He could get off more than once, especially since it had been so long. It might be better if Tony made him come first, that way he could actually enjoy it later.

“Be a good boy and get on your knees,” Tony said, dark and gravely.

Steve swallowed loudly, “Yes, sir,” he said, scrambling out of Tony’s lap and onto the floor between his spread legs. So, they were doing it  _ this w _ ay. Good. Steve liked Tony like this, all teasing praise and cruel pleasure.

“So eager,” Tony chuckled, smirking down at him. Steve felt his face flush, embarrassed.

Looking up at Tony like this though… God, he looked so beautiful. Beautiful and in control and confident and just a little mean. Just like Steve needed.

Tony was someone who, although had many things handed to him in life, had to fight for control in every aspect of it. He fought for control of himself, his business, his designs, his reputation. So, Steve liked  _ giving  _ Tony control sometimes. Liked the way Tony looked like he didn’t have to work for it for once, because when it came to Steve, Tony didn’t need to fight for control. Unless he wanted to, because that was a game they played too, though not as often as it was a little too close to how they had been when they first met, when Tony had yet again, had to prove himself to someone.

Now, Tony had nothing to prove. Steve was all his, and he knew it.

Steve liked being controlled by Tony. Steve was so often in control, and people expected him to be in control, and that was good and fine because he was a soldier and he knew how to lead, but he also knew how to  _ be _ led. Sometimes that’s what he needed. To shut his brain off and be whatever Tony told him to be.

Tony was very creative in this.

Steve looked up through his lashes, licked his lips and let himself take in the image Tony made.

Dark hair, a bit messy now, and dark, dark eyes, blown with lust and framed with those thick black lashes. His mouth was red from their kissing and was turned up in a smirk that rarely left his face when he wanted to be in control like this. His posture relaxed and confident, even with his cock straining against his slacks.

It made Steve’s mouth water.

“Go on, take it out,” Tony chuckled, seeing Steve’s eyes on his crotch.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, he loved sucking Tony, loved the things his boyfriend said while he did, loved the way he carded his fingers in his hair. Loved the way Tony liked to choke him like this, then laugh at the noises of his gagging.

Tony was a bit of a sadist.

Steve was a bit of a masochist.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony chided, “hands behind your back, baby,” he said, “where are your manners?” he teased with a smile.

Steve couldn’t help but smile back, “Sorry, sir,” he said, putting his arms behind his back, gripping his elbows.

Tony had already removed his belt, which meant he had planned for this. Probably wasn’t just going to be a quick blowjob between the couch and bedroom, then.

Steve was well practiced in getting Tony’s pants open with his teeth, it was practically a rule at this point.

When he got the zipper down, Tony’s cock sprung free, the man not wearing underwear.

Steve groaned hips twitching instinctively, searching for friction, god, that was hot. He nuzzled Tony’s heated erection against his cheek and waited to be told to take him into his mouth.

“Go ahead,” Tony chuckled, “we don’t have all day, as much as I love watching you wait,” he said, offhandedly.

Steve didn’t waste any time, taking Tony in his mouth and swallowing him down, gagging slightly, but moving to bob his head right away.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony groaned, “so fucking eager, aren’t you?” he teased, breathless.

Steve moaned his agreement, hips shifting. He wished he could get a hand on his crotch, grind up into his palm a little, but Tony told him to keep his hands behind him so he tried to speed things up so Tony would touch him faster.

“Missed your mouth,” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair, “gotta make up for lost time,” he said, grin in his voice. Tony’s fingers tightened, a silent warning telling Steve to take a breath before Tony shoved him down and held him there, choking and gagging gently –enough to make his throat spasm around his cockhead. “Yeah, good boy,” he praised.

Steve’s hips twitched, he needed Tony to hurry up. It had been so long. He was whining, sounding more like moaning with Tony’s cock in his airway. The lack of oxygen just making him that much harder in his jeans.

Tony let him up, “Please, Tony,” Steve rasped, “need you, please,” he begged.

Smirking, “Take your cock out,” Tony said, “pants to your knees,” he ordered.

Steve did as requested, feeling embarrassed and on display, suddenly aware of how they  _ weren’t _ in the bedroom.

Tony didn’t even touch him, just forced his head back down on his cock, ass bared to the room, cock hard and dripping between his spread thighs.

Tony continued to fuck Steve’s face, and Steve moaned and begged every time he had the breath to do so.

“Sir, sir, please, please, I’ll be so good, just—” he broke off, embarrassed at himself. Steve could beg Tony and he loved to do it… but he wasn’t so great for begging for  _ specifics _ .

“Aw, baby,” Tony cooed, “You’re a mess, aren’t you?” Steve nodded. He was, he was a wreck. He needed. He just didn’t know what he needed. It was whatever Tony wanted him to have, but he needed it faster. “Yeah, got yourself all worked up, didn’t you?” he said, faux-sympathetic, stroking Steve’s cheeks which were bright red with shame. His cock twitched in front of him, leaking and heavy.

Tony didn’t let him respond, just pressed down until Steve had him in his mouth again. This time, he wasn’t choking and could breathe.

This time, Tony moved his leg and slotted it in between Steve’s legs.

His eyes shot open, Tony pressed his shin clad in those ridiculously tight charcoal suit pants up against Steve’s aching cock and there wasn’t a force on earth that could have stopped Steve’s hips jerking forward, moaning around Tony’s cock.

“Like that?” Tony smirked. Steve just moaned again. Yes, yes Steve did like that, but he needed  _ more _ .

Tony tugged on his hair, “down, lick,” he said, and when Steve adjusted his position to lap at Tony’s balls and the base of his cock, the man’s leg followed. “I don’t want to come yet,” Tony said, “but you gave me an idea,” he said, casual, “rubbing up on me all week, getting yourself all desperate,” he sighed, scratching at Steve’s scalp, “So, now I’m going to leave my leg right here,” he said, pressing a bit firmer into Steve’s leaking cock, the soft fabric creating amazing friction, “and you’re going to rub yourself off just like this, and I’m going to make fun of you,” he said, smiling, petting, “cause you look so good like this,” he added.

Steve heard himself whimper. Oh, Tony was cruel. Steve’s face was scarlet with embarrassment he was sure. He was on his knees, face in Tony’s crotch, his jeans around his knees and cock pressed up against Tony’s expensive suit pants, no doubt leaving traces of pre-come smeared all over the fabric.

“Go on,” Tony prompted, tugging his hair a bit.

Steve was helpless to do anything but.

It had been weeks since he’d been with Tony after the embarrassing realization that Bucky could sometimes hear them when they had the door shut. He’d been trying to tempt Tony into a quiet quicky in the shower pretty much every day for the last week, but to no avail. It seemed that may have been part of the plan, now though, as Steve’s hips stuttered against his boyfriend’s leg and Steve let out a shaky moan.

Tony laughed, “Oh, that’s beautiful,” he sighed, “keep going, you’re not moving ‘till you come like this,” he said firmly.

“What—” Steve panted, hips rocking forward, hands still behind his back and head resting on Tony’s thigh, “What about your pants?” he gasped, Tony pressing his leg harder into Steve’s cock, “Sir,” he added, feeling like that movement was more a warning then a kindness.

“Aw, you’re worried about making me all messy?” he crooned, “that’s okay, you’re going to lick me clean when you’re done,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Steve slurred.

The friction was extraordinarily  _ not enough _ , but the reality of the situation was. His boyfriend, mean and cruel and oh so very fucking hot, fully dressed but for the cock that Steve’s face was pressed into, making him hump his leg like he was some kind of animal, and Steve was  _ so hard _ .

“Good boy,” Tony praised, “I’m good to you, aren’t I, baby?” Tony asked, sweetly.

Tony was not. Tony was mean, and sadistic as fuck, “Yes, sir,” Steve moaned, “so good to me, thank you,” he gasped, rocking  _ just right _ , and oh, oh, maybe this was enough friction. Maybe Tony was good to him, he thought, fuzzily.

“That’s right baby, move those hips,” Tony encouraged, “So desperate, you’re getting close already,” he laughed, “Fuck, you’re actually going to come like this,” he said with realization and smug satisfaction. “I figured you’d just get really whiny and then I’d take pity on you,” he admitted with another laugh, “but no, you’re close,” he said happily.

Steve’s embarrassment grew, he whined high in his throat.

“God, that’s pathetic, Steve,” Tony said, smiling all the while, “humping my leg like a bitch in heat, fuck, baby,” he said, almost reverent. Tony was stroking himself now, and Steve lapped at his balls again, showing his appreciation.

“Good boy,” Tony said, “that’s a good boy,” he continued to praise, “you should see yourself right now,” Tony sighed, “my pretty little whore,” he moaned.

Steve’s hips moved faster, the friction felt like too much and not enough, the fabric soft but rapidly dampening with pre-come, Steve’s eyes rolled into his head, “yes, sir, I’m yours,” he moaned.

He cut himself off though, catching a glimpse of something in his peripheral. He had enough of a mind to drag his head up and look, but there was nothing there, and he knew they still had time before Bucky was due back, and anyway—Jarvis would have told them if Bucky was on his way up in the elevator.

Steve dropped his head back down, only for Tony to grip his hair and pull him down on his cock again.

Steve’s hips moved faster, a desperate edge to the movement as the lack of oxygen spiked dopamine and adrenaline.

“So pretty, you make such a good whore, Steve, god,” Tony moaned, “C’ome on,” he encouraged, “fucking come already, pathetic little slut,” Tony growled.

“Yes, sir,” Steve gasped, sped up his movement even though it hurt a little, Tony was so good, the friction felt so good. Tony was letting him dirty up his nice clothes so Steve could get off like the pathetic animal he was, “oh, oh, oh, Tony, Sir,” he moaned. He was so close.

“Good boy, come on,” he said, voice dripping condescension, and Steve was coming, hot white and blurred vision all over Tony’s pants.

Tony let him rock against him a moment longer, but didn’t let him cool down any, “Good boy, Steve, now look at the mess you made,” he tsked, “clean it up,” he said.

“yes, sir,” he said, “thank you, sir,” he mumbled, shuffling down to the mess of white he’d left all over Tony’s leg. He obediently started licking, “you’re so good to me, sir,” Steve babbled, “thank you for letting me come,” he went on, lapping up his cold and bitter come from the fabric of Tony’s suit.

Tony continued to shower him in praise, and when he was done cleaning up his mess, Tony cradled his face in his hands, “You’re perfect, Steve,” he said softly, “Do you still want me to fuck you, or are you all done?” he asked, serious.

“More,” Steve said with what had to be a dopey smile.

Tony gave him exactly what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the lovely person who I once did the above mentioned disgusting sex acts with. A true inspiration to us all and an absolute delight to... well yeah. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I trigger warning the second-hand embarrassment that you will inevitably get from this? Consider that it.
> 
> Also this chapter is super short! Sorry about that.

**Tony**

Steve and Tony had needed some alone time, that was for damn sure. He felt better already, having spent a few short hours doing and saying awful things to his boyfriend who loved it, and then spending several more significantly longer hours loving all over said boyfriend until Steve was so sick of the after care that he physically moved Tony to the other side of the bed to sleep. That was an indication Tony had done a good job, if ever there was one.

When they finally emerged, Bucky was already home, having snuck in probably during their afternoon nap, and the man looked positively stormy.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Tony asked, hoping to god Bucky hadn’t overheard anything and that Tony wasn’t about to get murdered.

“Clint’s an asshole,” came the grunted response.

Damn, Tony thought, he was back on the hating Clint train. Bucky seemed to fluctuate with his opinion of Clint a lot. Sometimes they hung out all the time, talked and shared sniper spy secrets or whatever, and other times Bucky was out for the archer’s blood.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Tony said, cheerful, “What did he do now?” he asked going to the freezer to get Bucky a popsicle because they always loosened the man’s tongue. Literally and figuratively.

Bucky opened his mouth to accept the treat with a startlingly Pavlovian response, to which Tony said nothing and pressed the popsicle to his tongue.

Bucky sucked dutifully for a while, then said, “you’re great for Steve,” like that answered his question at all.

Blinking owlishly at Bucky, Tony managed a quick, “uh, thanks,” in response before turning around to start on dinner.

“Clint’s an asshole,” Tony informed Steve, when the blond emerged from the bedroom, showered and all evidence of sex gone, almost a shame in Tony’s opinion.

Steve just nodded, dazed, and slid into a chair to watch Tony cook.

“Should have cuddled some more,” Tony muttered, knowing Steve would disagree, but he always did, even as his eyes were still a little glassy and he was staring at Tony like Tony was going to tell him to get back on his knees.

That man was never satisfied.

“See,” Bucky gestured to Steve, who blinked slowly at Bucky like he wasn’t sure when he’d gotten there, “anyone who makes Steve look that stupid, is clearly perfect!” he complained.

“Uh,” Tony said, confused, “thanks for the ego boost?” he tried, unsure what the conversation was really about.

“No, don’t boost his ego,” Steve moaned from where his head was on the table, “I won’t survive,” he sighed.

Bucky laughed, that ten-years-younger kind of laugh that was light and full of joy, “Steve, go back to bed,” he said, “your post-coitus-stupid is showing,” he rolled his eyes.

Were they talking about sex? Usually, Bucky hated talking about sex. It made him awkward and uncomfortable in a very not sexy way. Tony managed to ask that first bit out loud.

“I hope not,” Bucky said, screwing up his face, “sex is gross,” he added for good measure.

Steve rolled his eyes now, “Is not,” he argued.

“Is too,” Bucky said back.

“Children, stop arguing at the table,” Tony chided, waving a wooden spoon around.

Steve chuckled a little, miming zipping his mouth shut while Bucky crossed his arms and pouted.

“So, wait,” Tony said a few minutes later, his own sex-stupid mind catching up, “did Clint say I wasn’t good for Steve?” he asked, trying not to let the hurt show in his voice.

Bucky growled, “No, if he did tha’s grounds for murder,” he gritted.

Tony pointed at him with the spoon again, “Nope, it’s not,” he corrected, “but good to know that’s something to look out for,” he turned back to the pasta.

“I don’t know what he was trying to say,” Bucky grumbled, “I didn’t like it though,” he pouted, “So, he’s an asshole and I hate him”.

Which Bucky said once every two weeks, so Tony wasn’t super concerned about it. A little worried about what the conversation with Clint had actually been about, though.

The whole thing slipped Tony’s mind after another few weeks, especially after Clint and Bucky made up, Clint bringing lactose free ice cream as a peace offering and Bucky reluctantly accepting. It was clear Bucky approved of Tony and Steve, though fuck if he knew why that was. He still hadn’t found a pattern.

Bucky had returned to their bed exactly one more time in the next two weeks, and he slept like a baby the whole night again, sucking his thumb and making Tony really consider a pacifier because that couldn’t be good for his teeth and not for any other reason.

Bucky was having a good day following that night, if a little sassy, so that meant they spent some time with the rest of the team in the common room downstairs. They usually ordered gross amounts of takeout and gathered around the coffee table and talked about nothing.

Bucky still couldn’t eat most solid food, and heavy soup broth like beef and chicken were still out of the question, but Tony had ordered himself some vegan miso soup with the express purpose of letting Bucky drink the broth.

“Here, try this,” he said, handing over the spoon and fighting the urge to spoon feed Bucky, because...  _ just no _ .

He took it slowly and licked at the spoon's contents before deciding to put the spoon in his mouth like a normal person.

“Good boy,” Tony said offhandedly, a little patronizing and sarcastic, but in the way that made Bucky either roll his eyes or preen depending on his mood.

“Gross,” he said scrunching his face up. Tony assumed he didn’t like the soup and held his hand up for the spoon to be handed back, and what did it mean that Tony accepted Bucky handing him things when it was only ever Pepper and Steve, but then Bucky said, “don’t call me that, that’s what you call Steve during sex,” and then everyone was choking or laughing or gaping like fish. Some were doing all three.

Steve did a very impressive spit take, and his face turned a pretty shade of red. Tony blinked quizzically at Bucky though, because,

“How the hell do  _ you _ know that?” he asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I heard you the other day,” he said, and made grabby hands for the soup, which Tony handed over in a daze because how was Tony still  _ alive _ .

“Oh my god,” Steve said, covering his face with his hands. Tony couldn’t help but smirk a little, his boyfriend was so prude.

“What!?” Clint said, “Holy shit, is captain America kinky?!” He exclaimed.

“Is Captain America a bottom?!” Sam asked, equally as shocked and unashamed.

Steve folded in on himself with a groan.

Bucky was drinking his soup, slowly as if it might decide to hurt him, which was a fair assessment on most foods for him.

Tony shrugged, “I mean, it’s like an eighty-twenty split,” he grinned.

“Why do you have a number for that?” Steve bemoaned quietly.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “What you do doesn’t count as bottoming, Tony,” he pointed out.

It was Tony’s turn to gape, sputtering at Bucky because, “How the hell do you know  _ that?! _ ”

Bucky shrugged, “Ya’ll ain’t quiet ‘bout it,” he muttered into his soup, “so don’t call me any of that shit you call Steve,” he went on, “cause I’d punch you even if I think you’re a real swell guy”.

“Other stuff?” Nat perked up immediately before Tony had fully processed the situation.

Steve groaned in shame, refusing to look at anyone, “Yeah, what other stuff?” Tony himself wanted to know, since he didn’t usually call Steve anything else unless they were doing some serious—oh shit, “Wait, don’t answer that, for the love of God,” he interrupted and then, “How am I still  _ alive _ ?!”.

“I ask myself that everyday, Tony,” Clint spoke up.

“You’re really just gonna leave us hanging?” Sam wheedled at Bucky, “C’mon, Steve looks red at a tomato, we gotta keep it up,” he said.

“I mean, you two did get up to that—” Bucky waved his hand to implicate ‘sex’ “in the living room, so you kinda deserve it if I rat ya’s out,” he shrugged.

He saw them in the  _ living room _ . Tony’s brain slowed down to a snail's pace trying to wrap itself around that.

“Come on, spill the beans, Barnes,” Sam egged.

“Nah, I ain’t repeatin’ any of that, it was  _ weird _ ,” he shrugged.

“Aw man,” Clint pouted, “at least tell us what Steve calls Tony,” he wheedled again, “it’s probably ‘daddy’ isn’t it?” he asked, voice alight with glee.

Bucky blinked, tilted his head in confusion, “is that… a thing?” he asked.

“Oh man, yes it is,” Sam nodded.

“Unfortunately, not Steve’s thing,” Tony said offhandedly, leaning back in his seat.

“Unfortunately,” Nat muttered, rolling her eyes.

“So, what is?” Sam tried again.

“Can we not?” Steve groaned, resigned.

Bucky shrugged, “Okay, I don’t like talking about this stuff anyway,” he said, shrugging, conversation dropped in his mind as he zeroed in on the luke-warm soup.

“Damn, Rogers,” Sam said shaking his head, the team still chuckling to themselves, “here we all thought you were a hundred-year-old virgin,” he laughed.

Tony was offended by that more than he should be, of course, “what does that say about me?” he pouted.

* * *

Steve and Tony had to talk about Bucky after that.

“So… Bucky saw us having sex,” Steve said, sitting on the edge of their bed.

“Well, he saw you humping my leg and heard me call you pathetic,” Tony corrected, “I still don’t know why I’m not dead,” Tony said.

They knew that Bucky had overheard them in their room before, since what they thought was adequate soundproofing throughout the penthouse didn’t hold up to super-soldier hearing, apparently. At least not with the amount of noise Steve tended to make. They took that into account though. They were careful now. Or so he had thought.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Bucky approves of our relationship, remember?” he said running a hand through his hair in an obvious tell for how worried he really was.

“This feels wrong, right?” Tony said, “But like… Weirder than if it was someone else,” he added.

The fact that it was Bucky made it somehow worse.

“Would you have preferred it was Natasha?” Steve replied with a bland expression.

No, Tony would not have preferred it was Natasha. Or anyone else, really. Ideally, no one walks in on his and Steve’s private time, but he supposed that if it had to be someone, Bucky was probably the best option.

That didn’t change how weird it felt, and not because Steve and Bucky were exes. More because Bucky was just Bucky, and he didn’t like sex, and he screwed up his face if they watched a movie with even a hinting at implied sex.

He wouldn’t say that he felt anything like ashamed, he was Tony Stark, he had no shame. It might be close though. Embarrassed even.

“Well, at least he didn’t seem traumatised?” Tony tried.

This was a weird conversation. Not even Tony knew how to make this less weird. Steve’s ex had walked in on them getting kinky in the living room, stayed for a show, and then acted like it was totally normal thing to witness and comment on.

Which in a way, isn’t  _ crazy  _ exactly. Pepper had walked in on some pretty weird stuff throughout his life, and they both made jokes about that. But Bucky was seemingly pretty sex-repulsed as it stood, since when other people made similar jokes or comments like that he never reacted well. It was really weird behaviour for him, especially given the nature of what he saw.

Bucky was protective of Steve, had attacked several of their friends on Steve’s behalf on bad days, and anyone who made Steve sad was immediately blacklisted for at least a week. So, Tony had made Steve cry, was choking Steve for longer than a normal human should be able to choke on something (thanks super-soldier serum!) and calling him names. That’s a lot of reasons for Bucky to want to kill Tony and  _ take his place _ . At the very least.

So, maybe it had more to do with Bucky and Steve being exes than he originally thought.

“Tony,” Steve said, serious, “I love you,” he told him.

Tony tried to brace for the ‘but’ except it never came.

Steve noticed though, “Tony,” he said softly, “I’m never leaving you,” he whispered like he knew what Tony was thinking.

He probably did. He usually did.

And Tony believed him for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quality of this fic is extremely sub-par, haha. I kind of forgot this was like the first or second fanfic I've ever written which is why I never posted it... Oh well! It's a niche fic anyway, and it's not like we get to be choosey!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since chapter 6 was so short, here's another!

**Bucky**

As weird as sex was to him, Bucky was happy to know that Steve and Tony were still doing  _ that _ . He still had no idea what Clint had been trying to say about Steve and Tony, and Bucky in a way, but it’s been driving his brain in circles thinking about it.

Bucky remembers being with Steve and it was… it was never like  _ that _ . Whatever the hell  _ that _ was even supposed to be. It didn’t matter, Steve seemed to really like it and that’s all Bucky cared about. Well, Tony seemed to like it too, and so Bucky cared about that as well.

Steve and Bucky being together seemed like such a natural progression when they were younger, despite both knowing their affection was viewed as very  _ unnatural _ at the time. It hadn’t been as hard as it should have been to accept the way Bucky felt for Steve was different than how he felt about anyone else in his world. No one had compared to Steve in his eyes, and for a long time that was just Bucky’s own personal universal truth. 

When they got older, at first, Bucky still hadn’t fully realized that the way he felt about Steve could be considered wrong, could be considered a sin. He didn’t think about Steve in a  _ dirty _ way, not really. He just knew that Steve meant more than anyone else was ever going to, and when he compared that thought with the reality of finding a wife and settling down, Bucky realized how much he hated the idea of being with someone who wasn’t Steve.

Bucky kissed Steve the first time because he was drunk, and Bucky always kissed girls when he was drunk. That’s what young men  _ did _ . Bucky kissed Steve because he thought if young men were supposed to want up pretty girls' dresses because eventually they’d settle down with one, and Bucky was content to settle down with Steve, then he should give it a go.

Steve kissed him back, and the rest was history.

But they didn’t do things like  _ that _ .

He was blurry on the details, and for some reason he remembered the after much more than he recalled the during, but he knows he never did those things to Steve, nor Steve him. No, Steve was always on top, for one, and they didn’t take their time during the way Steve and Tony clearly did. The only real similarity Bucky saw between Tony’s and Bucky’s own sexual relationship with Steve was that Bucky also didn’t always want to get off  _ during _ . Which was to be expected, considering the lack of finesse either of them had, really.

Bucky preferred the kissing, he thinks, and he preferred the after when Steve was oh so very gentle with him, helping Bucky slip back into his shorts, tucking the blankets up to his chin and pulling Bucky into his thin chest. Don’t get him wrong, Bucky did like the during part too, even if he didn’t always get worked up the way Steve did (though Steve was never  _ that _ worked up). He liked when Steve was on top of him and leaving sloppy kisses all over Bucky’s throat and chest, and he liked being in the circle of Steve’s arms, the center of his world.

Steve had always remarked on how Bucky liked the attention more than the physical stuff, and maybe he was right about it, back then. Bucky didn’t know.

All he knew was that Bucky never made Steve look or sound like that, and Steve never made Bucky look or sound like that, and going off his limited memory, Bucky’s not sure he’d consider some of what he’s seen Steve and Tony do to be sex at all.

And in the end? Bucky really just didn’t  _ care _ . Not the way some people thought he should.

Bucky had better things to care about than what his ex got up to in his downtime, like how Tony had recently set out on the task of finding foods Bucky could eat that didn’t come in liquid form. The soup broth seemed to only be the start.

It also seemed like Bucky wasn’t the only one not sleeping lately, which he cared about rather a lot.

“Stevie,” Bucky asked one afternoon when he hadn’t seen Tony for a while, “where’s Tony?”.

Steve heaved a sigh, scrubbed a hand down his face and mumbled, “In the lab,” which was his answer yesterday night, too.

“Still?”

Steve nodded, “He’s… I don’t know, something’s wrong. He comes to bed and stays awake all night, I don’t think he’s slept for more than four hours all week,” Steve confided.

That had been two days ago, and today… today Tony didn’t even come up to give Bucky a popsicle.

Bucky  _ did not _ get emotional about it.

Bucky just maybe fell really hard into that headspace where good things felt great and bad things felt awful and emotional regulation escaped him, and yeah, maybe his eyes were watering a little, sitting at the table waiting… and then maybe he went down to the lab and sat outside the door until Tony came out.

Which was about ten seconds after he sat down.

But he wasn’t emotional. He just liked his routine.

“Bucky?” Tony asked, like Jarvis hadn’t just informed him who was outside the door.

Bucky shrugged.

“Shit,” Tony said, “I’m late, aren’t I?” he said, sounding remorseful.

Bucky nodded, not looking up at him. He was embarrassed, both because apparently Tony knew it was their routine and kept the schedule himself, and because Bucky… Bucky  _ really liked _ their routine.

“Aw, Princess,” he said, and was kneeling down to look at Bucky’s face, which he hid behind his hair, “I’m sorry, I’ve been—” he cut himself off, “doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” he tucked Bucky’s hair behind his ears, “How about I make it up to you? I think you might be ready for pureed vegetables to go alongside your liquid vegetables,” he said with a sly smile.

Bucky was always nervous about food, but when Tony gave him things, that was usually very good.

He nodded and followed Tony up to the kitchen.

Tony looked  _ awful _ .

He was in the same clothes Bucky saw him in for the last two days, and his hair was sticking straight up in the air. His hands were filthy and he spent five whole minutes scrubbing them clean, which revealed a few small burn marks and scabs on his hands.

The bags under his eyes were dark and his eyes were restless and skittered all around the room, paranoid.

“Here,” Tony said, holding out a spoonful of chunky orange puree.

Bucky scrunched up his face and turned away. “Grrr,” he tried to say. It looked gross.

“Come on,” Tony sighed, “it’s not so bad, you princess,” he grumbled.

Bucky shook his head. It looked disgusting. He wanted his popsicle instead.

Tony tried a few more times to get Bucky to take the spoon. He sat on his own hands to show his disinterest non-verbally, but then Tony switched tactics, “Whoosh,” he said, voice teasing, “open up for the airplane, doll face,” he cooed.

Bucky turned his face away in disgust, but Tony followed with the spoon, making airplane noises all the while. Eventually Bucky gave up, the risk of getting that gunk in his hair too high.

It wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was soft enough that it didn’t scrape his throat, but it wasn’t a liquid, so he couldn’t swallow it down immediately like he was used to. It took a second to get his tongue to work.

“Good bo—" Tony started, smiling, “uh, girl?” he finished lamely.

Bucky was not a girl, but it was better than being called the same thing that Steve was called when Tony was doing  _ those things _ with him.

Bucky accepted the name and turned his face up for another spoonful, which came from Tony with a shrug.

“Good girl,” he said with a nod to Bucky.

Bucky smiled shyly.

Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Tony, since he was now unfortunately thinking about  _ those things _ again.

It pertained to the conversation they had had with the team, and something about it had sparked Bucky’s curiosity, despite the topic that he often wanted to avoid.

“Daddy,” Bucky said.

Tony’s hand faltered on its way back to the bowl of mush, and he made a choked off sound, something like “Hgnh,” and several expressions passed across his face too rapidly for him to read before settling on ‘confused and scared’ for some reason.

“Wha’s it mean?” Bucky asked.

Tony seemed to flounder for a minute, sputtering, repeating the question to himself, “What does… what… oh my god, I’m going to hell,” he muttered, “straight to the ninth circle, holy shit,” he rambled, “What does ‘ _ daddy _ ’ mean?” he clarified, looking at Bucky like he had two heads.

Bucky nodded. That is what he wanted to know, but he forgave Tony for being slow, it was obvious the man wasn’t sleeping. Bucky did all kinds of slow things when he was tired too. Like cry over popsicles, apparently.

“Uh, depends on the context,” he said, and went back to scooping up more of the orange mush.

Bucky didn’t like that answer, because it wasn’t an answer. He pouted and turned his head away.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered, “Okay, it uh, it can be a sex thing,” he muttered, “or a… less of a sex thing,” he said cryptic.

Bucky turned his head away again.

“Okay, okay,” Tony muttered, “it uh, some… sometimes it’s just a word that people might say if their partner is… older, or uh, more authoritative, or like a sugar daddy—a rich guy who buys stuff for their younger partner,” he muttered, “and no, I am not Steve’s sugar daddy,” he added.

“Other times?” Bucky asked, because Tony said ‘sometimes’ and he said ‘less of a sex thing’ and Bucky liked things that were less about sex.

God knows there’s enough sex going on in the world. One could think it all revolves around it.

“Oh lord,” Tony mumbled, casting his eyes heavenward in silent prayer, “sometimes… people like to… roleplay,” he said, biting his lip, “this is an awful time for this discussion, I hope you realize later,” he added, then went on, “some people like to roleplay as uh, uh, a caregiver to a uh, consenting adult that uh… likes to roleplay as a uh… little or a uh, baby or uh, any age, really… it’s uhm, sometimes sexual and sometimes it’s not sexual and it’s just about… caregiving,” he finished, looking uncomfortable, “Now eat you carrots,” he added.

Bucky accepted the next spoonful and thought it over.

Caregiving.

“You an’ Stevie… care-give,” he pointed out.

Tony gently slammed his head down onto the counter and left it there, he groaned in frustration, “It’s… different, Bucky,” he added.

“So, not my daddies?” Bucky asked, just to be sure.

Instead of answering, Tony called loudly to Steve and a moment later Stevie came out of his studio, looking concerned. Tony got up, “Feed the princess his carrots, I’m going to bed,” he ordered but with a pleading expression and walked away, bumping into the doorframe on his way.

Stevie frowned, then shrugged, “At least he’s sleeping,” he muttered, “What did you do to my boyfriend?” Stevie teased with a smile and took up Tony’s place.

Bucky shrugged. He had no idea what he’d done. Tony didn’t look angry, or sad. Just tired and a little like a deer in the headlights, like maybe Bucky had learned something he shouldn’t have, but Bucky didn’t actually know what it was.

Anyway, it gave him lots to think about, when his head cleared a little bit. He was in a much calmer mood now that he spent some time with Tony. He didn’t get his popsicle, but he did get to spend Tony’s afternoon break with him, which was the important part, even if Tony was late. Steve fed him his carrots and Bucky didn’t complain anymore, and Steve didn’t have to make airplane noises, but he still did and it made Bucky happy.

“Nap,” Bucky demanded, afterwards.

Stevie nodded, “Okay, let me go grab my book, you get comfy,” he said.

Bucky settled himself on the couch, half sitting up and facing the room. When Stevie came back, he sat in the chair near Bucky’s head and opened his book. This was their late afternoon routine now, and Bucky pretended it wasn’t dependent behaviour, but… he knew it kind of was.

“Out loud,” he said today, voice petulant in a way he couldn’t really help.

Stevie chuckled, “Okay, but close your eyes,” he said.

Bucky did, and he fell asleep listening to Stevie reading softly next to him.

The next day, Bucky felt really bad about making Tony uncomfortable with his questions. He looked back on the whole thing with a clearer head and realized Bucky had been over-stepping boundaries and Tony had ended up needing to leave to avoid the discomfort of the conversation. Bucky tried to talk to Dr. McKinley about it. About how awful he felt, but he couldn’t get the words out. He was fidgety and anxious.

Then she offered him an adult colouring page and some pencils like Steve has in his studio. Bucky found it much easier to talk when he had something to do.

When he got home, he presented the page to Steve with a proud smile, Steve took one look at the swirling rainbow design and his whole face lit up.

“Did you make this?” he asked, and at Bucky’s nod, Steve pulled him into a hug, “It’s beautiful, you did great, Buck,” he said.

Bucky melted into the hug, wrapped his flesh arm around Steve and hummed happily.

The next day, Tony gave him his popsicle, fed him a different squishy vegetable, and presented him with a whole book of those swirly designs and a package of different coloured pencils.

Bucky hugged Tony.

The other man froze, then melted into it the same way Bucky always did with Steve, “Glad you like them,” he mumbled, “sorry about the other day,” he added with a squeeze.

“Me too, I shouldn’t have been so nosey,” Bucky replied.

Tony waved him off, “I like nosey,” he smiled, “just caught me off guard, that’s all,” he said.

Bucky still felt bad for making Tony uncomfortable, so the first picture he finished was gifted to Tony, who seemed to be caught off guard again, but then grinned at Bucky all wide and proud and said, “I love it, tasty freeze,” and “I’ll put in in the workshop,” and then he really did.

The second picture went to Steve, and he put it up in his studio alongside the first one he’d given him from Dr. McKinley’s office and said, “There, that can be your corner, I’ll put all your pictures up there,” with a warm smile that made Bucky blush, because this was Steve’s  _ art  _ studio and he was dedicating space there for  _ Bucky _ and Steve was so good to him.

The second time Bucky asked Tony about what the whole ‘Daddy’ thing meant, Bucky was not overly emotional and had a clear head, plus Tony had a full night sleep. He knows that, because Bucky had been there and made sure of it.

“I tried to google it,” Bucky said, “but there was… sex stuff, so can you explain it instead?” he asked Tony. They were in the workshop, Tony fixing the sticky joint of Bucky’s pinky finger.

“Sure, Buck,” he replied, “Non-sexual ageplay, is a name for it, or just caregiver and little dynamics,” he said, “I can put safe-search on your tablet so you can look it up without the sex, if you want, who knows… might be your thing, if you ever get a boyfriend” he said with a wink.

Bucky bit his lip.

He was pretty sure it was his thing.

Then, he googled it with Jarvis filtering the sex, and Bucky… Bucky was sure it was his thing.

The ‘soft’ days he called them (Tony called them ‘Stevie’ days), when Bucky felt things were just a little further away, and his brain was soft and things a little simpler, and sucking his thumb was an all day thing and not just a soothing thing he did when trying to sleep. He was emotional, pouty, non-verbal and petulant, he was whiney, wanted Stevie and Tony around all the time… but Bucky  _ didn’t want a boyfriend _ .

That was the only part that didn’t fit. It never really did, he was coming to notice.

“Tony, Steve,” he said another day later, “I don’t want a boyfriend,” he announced, “and I don’t want to live somewhere else,” he added.

Steve looked very confused. Tony looked worried.

“You don’t have to live anywhere else, Bucky,” Steve said slowly, “there’s lots of room for you here,” he told him.

Bucky nodded. Good. That was good. Nothing had to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at bucky go! Figuring himself out and stuff. We're starting to tackle Bucky's asexuality too, so I think it's important that I give the reminder that Bucky not being interested in sex is NOT trauma related, but that to other characters it might seem that way as it's often people's knee jerk reaction to asexuality. The way other people perceive asexuality is also going to come up the next time we visit Bucky's POV and it gets pretty messy for him, but it all works out!
> 
> Also, the age play aspects of the fic, while are for sure part of Bucky's coping mechanisms, are not a product of Hydra. Instead, it is a product of Bucky's own version of self care and recovery.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://notdoingsohot.tumblr.com/)


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